Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1887-08-27
NO. so.

You Engnsn mans may iangn as me.
but ali! you little ken how dearly we
Scotch mountaineers love our wild
homes; besides, you know-I'm only
simple servant lassie. s.s
Our Johnnie could play the fiddle so
sweetly. It was the merry airs auld
Grannie liked the best, but there was one
thing that Johnnie used to play and sing
that never failed to bring the tears to my
eyes at least; though somehow IL was
sweet kind of melancholy it inspired. and
neither grief nor melancholy ever injuries
the heart if tears can flow.
Had I any other companions except
Johnnie? Yes, neighbor lassie would
sometimes drop in, and-well, why
should deny it, sometimes a neighbor
laddie-why shouldn't simple Scotch
What for no? eB
But it was only on Sunday evenings in
the sweet summer time that Jamie and I
used to take lonely walk. And where
did we walk, think you? Why, down
the line. You see IN the far north Of
dear aud Scotland trains don't run on
the Sabbath day, and the line is the favor
lite promenade Green, feathery larch
trees bounded the banks all along, and
the banks themselves were painted with
wild flowers IN the sweetest coloH you
could imagine patches Of crimson clover,
patches of white clover, befis Of Grange
trnfoils, beds of blneat speedwell end tall
red ragged robins everywhere. Then
a - ,nS,
bunlmed from flower to fiower, the sweet
perfume of the clover and tho wild, glad
notes Of the chafie near his nest In the
larc tree. And-yes, aud Janlie's voice,
sweeter to mo than all. Did love JaInief
! dinna ken. Jamie never what you
might call made love to me, but ! dare
say did like him wec bit. Bonnie
black hair had Jamie. blue, hue cen, rosy
dimpled cheeks, o cockit bonnet wi long
strings that fluttered Ger his back and
shoulders, and such winsome smilei
No, he never made love like, but he
would talk for an hour at q time about
his horses and kye, and ] used just to
look and laugh and listen. Fell
You may be think I'm dwelling too
long on my younger days and our happy
life at the little farm ON the braehead--
but the rest of my story is all SO sad.
I'm sure enough that neither johnnie
nor ever gave thought for tomorrow.
In this respect we fulfilled tho Scriptures
right enough. It never struck us that
our present life would not last till we
closed our eyes for aye and went 10 sleep
in the moods. a .t...-,...r.
But one wet. rough winters svsning.
with the wind moaning in the chimney
and the cold snow and sleet tearing over
the hills and through the woods, father
came home looking wan and queer. Ne.
no, cannot dwell on this. That night
he took to his bed, and in spite OF the
doctors attention, in spite OF the kind
ness of an English lady who was dwell
ing at the big house. he slipt quietly
away one night and joined our mother
in heaven.
What changed The funeral past and
broken, up home. Everything except
the old eight-day clock, which Grannie
wouldn't part with, sold by foup, Gran
ME herself dwelling in aHttle hut by the
hillside, and Johnnie soldier In the GAL
liant Forty-twa And tight handsome
did he look In his Highland dress, with
his brawny legs and his bonnet add
And la simple servant lassie. For
the kind English lady had taken quite a
fancy to me and I was bound for the
south as her maid. As the train rolled
away from tho station, as lost sight II
the woods, and hills and bonnie braes.
what could / do but lean back in corner
of the carriage and cry-lassie like. Poor
jamie, tool .-..... . -
Grief does not break young hearts, and
in my new home at Southsea, everything
was very new indeed, and nay heart leapt
up one day with a nanaeless joy when
heard that the Forty second was coming
to Portsmouth. -..se.r IN. i'
Ny mistress was kindness ITSELF. and
consideration, too. She was q lady,
though not rich, and I'm sure would
have bitten her tongue at any time rather
than say q single word to wound the
feelings or hurt the heart Of a ample ser-
want lassie. Ali would that all nnis-
tfesses were the snnei She never hin
dered me from going ont, and. indeed.
often suggested it.. And 30, many were
the walks Johnnie and had ON the
ran1parts, and many q talk OF the dear
old times that even now seemed 90 far
away. UHfNIs sc.I ,sEn 4d -
And my mistress had always . kind
word and q smile for me, and talked 90
naturally and 50 encouragingly that at
any time L believe would have laid
down my life to save hers After O few
months OF Portsmouth, life my mistress
and I started to spend few weeks in
France. Johnnie saw as of, and think
I see the handsome, manly boy yet, with
the sunny smile on his st1nburnt face, in
the dark tartan kilt and white spats,
standing there on the station waving us
good by with his bonnet and plumes. N.
We were two months away, but re-
turned at last and the very next morn
ing went to see for johnnie. em y
was rounding the cornef OF q street,
when the slow, half mufiiedb sound Of
drums fell ON my ear, and presently
could hear the music itself. IL was q
dirge, coronach, played by the pipers.
1t was no ordinary dead march. twas the
grand old hymn, Johnnie's song and
mine: @ -
o. come-corne-with-me
To-the- auid--KiFk yard.
To every word there was stroke OF
the drum and q step Of the men. And
yonder ID the coffin and the bonnet and
feathers. "a. ai
'sWho is--d---d-deadf' 1 cried,
clutchiag the arm Of soldier who stood
near me. agesf
He must have seen was choking.
He put one arm round my waist kindly
as he replied:
Poor Jack Mclean, my lass. Are
| you his sweetheart
remember nothing more for weeks,
for all this time lay raring with brain
| fever. a9
- > -
A year had passed away and o change
had come over my situation IN life. For
uy dear, kind mistress was obliged TO give
up house and go abroad, and I was en-
gagged as general servant to lady in
Portsmouth.
Now was to, know what indeed Il